


The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl

by NarutoDays (DAYS8)



Series: Japanese Folktales [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Astronomy, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, F/M, Forbidden Love, Implied Sexual Content, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Love at First Sight, Romance, Tanabata
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2019-11-23 17:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18154847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAYS8/pseuds/NarutoDays
Summary: The folktale of the Japanese summer festival Tanabata, the story of Orihime’s and Hikoboshi’s love.





	1. Across the Amanogawa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the NaruHina ^^

Moonrays,

Woven into stardust,

Threaded through gossamer of clouds.

The finished piece glowed like the tail ends of comets, perfectly fit for the blushing bride.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.  

“He won’t be able to take his eyes off of you,” Hinata said, watching Ino, the Princess of Horn, turn so the cloth would catch the light.  

“Thank you...thank you so much!”  Kogaku-hime’s expression was one of pure hope and joy, one that the Weaving Princess had seen often enough to know that the bride was in love, that the wedding would be a success.  

She smiled, satisfied at another job well done, happy that her father would be pleased with her work.

Yet as she carefully wrapped the shiromuku to be later sent to the bride, she couldn’t help feeling wistful.  When would she have her own wedding?  Would she ever meet someone to smile for, to blush for, to love?  She was already at the later years of proper marrying age, and soon, surely too soon, she would be too old for anyone to want.

She worked long hours, practicing and perfecting her craft, creating beautiful fabrics for all occasions that were well-known across the celestial heavens.  Her designs were sought out, desired for their auspicious value.  She had a long list of prominent clients and an even longer waiting list of orders.

Despite her neverending duties, she loved her art.  She loved forging beauty from the natural world around her.  She loved even more bringing happiness to her family, friends, and loyal customers.

She knew she could live a fulfilling life in this way.

But she couldn’t help her longing sigh, she couldn’t help watching her friend’s marriage with some yearning in her heart.  

 

His daughter’s melancholy did not go unnoticed.  As strict as he was on his daughter, he loved her and wanted her to be happy.  “Hinata, the wedding was perfect, your work was admired by all.  Why do you look so sad?”

“Otou-sama, no, I am proud of my work and glad that I could contribute to the start of their marriage.”

“Then what are you sighing for?”

Seeing that her father would not leave it alone, she admitted her true feelings.  “I just...hope that one day I can also find such happiness...in someone to love and to care for.”

Her father was surprised, but realized that, indeed, it was time.  Though his daughter was fair and beautiful, and though she attracted many an admirer, she had never shown interest before, and instead spent all her energies in her work.  He encouraged her work ethic and enjoyed seeing the success she had found.  No one could weave the stars together as effectively as Hinata.  Nothing could promise a propitious occasion like his daughter’s fabrics, and surely, her work was now considered indispensable to the gods.  For all of her success, she deserved happiness, too.  She deserved someone just as honest, good, and hardworking as she.  And he had one such young god in mind.

“I can arrange a meeting for you with Hikoboshi.  Have you met each other?”

She shook her head.  She rarely left her workshop.  The only people she ever met were her clients, long-time friends, and family members.  Though she had heard of him mentioned in passing, she now wondered about who Hikoboshi was.  Her father had never spoken of him before.  “Who is Hikoboshi?”

“He lives across the Amanogawa in Akira, and herds the cattle of Northern Genbu.  He has earned a reputation for being reliable and trustworthy.  Would you like to meet him?”

Hinata took a moment to collect her thoughts, imagining the difficulties of such a hazardous occupation.  An unfamiliar hope, an excitement, rushed through her, and she nodded. “Yes, Otou-sama, I would like to meet him.”

 

He had heard of her.  

After all, who hadn’t?  

The celestial maiden beside the Amanogawa, Orihime of Raira.  Her starlit kimono were considered as beautiful as the heavens.  Her own beauty spoken of in hushed, admiring tones from those fortunate enough to have seen her.  Rumor said her hair was like night’s silk itself, her eyes the moonbows of misted nights, her skin as pure as the divine waters of the Amanogawa.  

When Tentei, the Heavenly Sky King, proposed the meeting to him, he was more than willing.  He felt more than honored.  He was shocked to even be considered, and ever since they settled on the date for their meeting, he couldn’t help but feel a strange self-consciousness tug at his heart.  

This mysterious beauty that captured the imaginations of many a young lord, and he, simple cowherd though he was, received the opportunity to meet her.  

Would it go well?

Would she like him?

Would he like her?

Would they marry?

He pondered these in his vigilance over the pastures, his gaze following the curves of the galaxies that dipped toward the horizons.  He took great pride in guarding this realm, in guiding the cattle across the fields and back to their respective starhouses. Though he was required to work for long periods of time, and the responsibilities were great, he enjoyed his job, and he knew no one else could map the constellations as well as he.  Perhaps it was due to this that the Heavenly Sky King recognized him as a potential suitor for his daughter.  Perhaps it was due to his dedicated work over so many years that he was being given this chance.

 

She took special care of her appearance as she prepared for their meeting.  She combed her hair and scrubbed her skin until they shone.  She dressed in a simple pale kimono of her design, the embroidered creatures along the seams small, yet auspicious in symbolism.  

She knew she did not have the same charm and wit as Ino.  She knew her only strengths to recommend her were her grace and refinement, painstakingly taught to her under the strict watch of her father.  The least she wanted to do was offend Hikoboshi’s eyes.  If she couldn’t banter and develop a quick rapport with him, she hoped that at least he might look at her and like what he sees.  She hoped she wasn’t already too old for his tastes.  She hoped he wouldn’t think her a waste of his time.  She felt she had little to offer, lacking in social and life experiences as she was, locked away in her shop with her loom and threads.  

Yet, despite her nervousness, she was hopeful.  Meeting someone different from her usual circle of acquaintances was already more novelty and excitement in itself than she was used to.

She had paid careful attention to the murmurings of gossip when she visited the palace last, catching snippets of conversation regarding the young god she would be meeting.

“The lightning storm passed through there,” they whispered.

“Did he make it?”

“He didn’t lose any of the cattle.”

“The air is shrouded tonight.”

“How can he see where he is going?”

“He is certainly a master navigator.”

Hushed tones that left her truly wondering, imagining what he might be like.

Wise and well-traveled?  

Strong and protective?  

Kind and considerate?

Would he tell her stories of life in the far fields and mountains of Akira?  

Was it more beautiful there than here in Raira?  

She daydreamed of their meeting, of what it might be like, and what it might lead to as she readied herself for the night, and even as she made her way to the decided-upon location, the Pavilion of Swans.  

She waited near the shoji doors for her introduction.  She could barely hear their low tones, her father’s and Hikoboshi’s.  His voice was textured and warm.  She imagined weaving the timbre of his voice into cloths of red aurora, with rays of purple and orange starbursts.  Even if the night’s meeting ended in a failure, she would remember this, the voice of the young lord who agreed to meet with her, who agreed to give her a chance, and she would memorialize it in her embroidery.

A quiet shuffle alerted her to the present, and the door slid open.  

Her father appeared and gestured for her to join his side.   

She stepped quietly, carefully to him into the doorway.  She kept her eyes lowered, only lifting them to meet the occupant of the room when her father introduced her.

Her gaze met blue.  Bright, bright blue eyes of the rarest and tallest atmospheres.  His hair spun golden like the treasures kept in the Jade Palace.  His features were distinctive, strong as if the current of the Amanogawa surged beneath his skin.

She shied her gaze away again in a motion of modesty, but truly her heart thrummed with nervous anticipation.  He was beautiful, unlike anything or anyone she had ever seen.

 

Once Tentei slid the door closed, leaving them to get to know one another, they sat down silently.

His gaze was fixed on her, entranced, trapped by the vision she presented.  She was everything they said and more.  The rumors of her beauty didn’t account for the way her dark lashes glimmered over moonlit, blushing cheeks.  No one spoke of the way her very presence radiated grace and elegance.

But most of all, he wasn’t prepared at all for how he felt when she looked up at him.  He was immediately drawn to her.  There was no describing her eyes.  Softer, lighter than the cirrus clouds that gather at the hoofs of his cattle.  Simultaneously, astonishingly, incandescent, like the solar winds that, at times, surge across his fields.  Electrifying.  Alarmingly alluring.

He was just the Cowherd, no better, no more virtuous than any other young god, and he knew, he, like so many others before him, was taken with the beauty of the Weaving Princess.  Every fiber of his being wanted her recognition, her attention, and he spoke before he knew what he wanted to say.  “Orihime,” he started.

She looked up at him, her iridescent gaze meeting his, sending a wave of satisfaction through him.  A little smile curled the edge of her mouth, like she was happy to hear him call her.

Her very look was riveting, one that nearly made him lost in his thoughts.  He took a silent, steadying breath and continued, “...I have heard much about you.  Your art...and your beauty.”  He couldn’t stop himself from appreciating the curve of her cheekbones, the line of her neck as it disappeared into her kimono.  “You are certainly more than everything I have heard,” he said, as honestly as he could convey.

She blushed and her eyes trailed down to the tatami mats beneath them.  

He wanted to hear her voice.  He wanted her to speak, but he didn’t really know what else to say.  If it was socially acceptable, he would gladly call her every name of beautiful for the rest of the meeting.  He watched her blush retreat from her cheeks.  “It is an honor to have this time to finally meet you.”

She looked up then, her lips parted, and he felt attuned to every motion and breath she made.  “Hikoboshi, I thank you for taking the time to meet me.  I am only but a weaving maid.  I do not deserve your words of praise.  I am the one who is honored to finally meet you.”

Her voice was soft, gentle, like the breeze that whispered through the pastures on tranquil nights.  His chest felt tight with overwhelming attraction.  “Please, call me Naruto.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.  She nodded once.  “Naruto-san?” she called, uncertainly, her voice caressing the syllables of his name.

“Yes?” he responded, carefully, as invitingly as possible, knowing he’d do what he could to have her comfortably call him without the honorific.  

“Could you please..tell me about your work?  I have heard of your incredible feats.”  She blushed, her gaze lowering as if she was asking for too much.

He smiled, happy to share with her his occupation, his way of life and his pride.  “Of course!”  He described as best he could the star plains, the time it took to memorize each starhouse in his youth, the dangers in driving the cattle across the constellations when the tradewinds swept northerly, or when they reach the zenith of Northern Genbu, and he must navigate through the corridors of the solar winds.  He told her of the way the celestial bodies rise and set over his home, the way the young cattle enjoy playing in the clouds, and the deities he meets upon completing each crossing.

She listened attentively, her expressions of awe gratifying in a way that made him feel more important than he really was.  

He realized, though, that he wasn’t learning anything about her.  While having her undivided attention was undeniably satisfying, he wanted to know more about her.  They were near the same age, yet she seemed so much more sheltered, more innocent to the world around her.  “Orihime, please tell me more about yourself.”

She blushed, her gaze ducking down to the table once more.  “I weave kimono.”

He could tell she was uncomfortable, but he wanted to hear more about the maiden who had so effortlessly captured his admiration with just a glance his way.  “Your kimono is renowned across the heavens.  How did you start weaving?”

“Oh,” she gasped a little, surprise evident on her face.  Her expression softened, and she smiled.  “My mother taught me when I was little.”  

He encouraged her to continue, and she told him of how she learned to twine the wisps of clouds together as a toddler, braiding them into simple jewelry she gifted to her parents.  How, as she grew older, she learned to pull and thread together the dust of the stars into fine chiffon, how she learned to weave in the glow of the moon to create lengths of gauze and silks.  She told him of inspiration she found from the natural world around her, from watching the interactions of her loved ones, or from the beauty she found in the little things.

And all too soon, their time together was over.  A knock on the wall alerted them to the time, startling both of them.  

“Naruto-san, I enjoyed learning about your home and work.  Thank you.”  She bowed and lifted her eyes shyly to him.

“I also enjoyed getting to know you better, Orihime.”  He meant it.  It was partially her beauty, no doubt, but it was really the way she spoke quietly yet cheerfully, the way her expression lightened when she shared about her weaving.  He found everything about her attractive, irresistible.

“Please, call me Hinata.”  She blushed and averted her gaze.

“Hinata-chan,” he tried.  It was an unspoken promise that he’d get to speak to her again.  How soon, he didn’t know, but the knowledge that she liked him enough to share her name with him was more than enough to make his heart clench.  He openly smiled at her, expressing his joy at her acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wikipedia-researching blackhole I fell into while writing this story was amazing.  
> In creating their world, I decided to reference aspects of Chinese, Greek, and Hawaiian/Micronesian astronomy.
> 
> Please take a look at a little of what I learned!
> 
> Chinese: The sky is separated into 4 Symbols, one of which is Black Tortoise of the North (where Orihime and Hikoboshi lie). Each Symbol has 7 Mansions that house and classify important stars.
> 
> Greek: Orihime refers to the star Vega, which is a part of the constellation called Lyra. Hikoboshi refers to the star Altair, which is part of the constellation called Aquila.
> 
> Hawaiian/Micronesian: Ocean navigators memorize "houses" that all of the stars rise from and set into to determine their direction. Their mental map is called a star compass.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Added note 7/2/19: I just realized that this story may not be the most accessible or easy to understand Dx  
> If you stuck around, you probably figured the following out already:
> 
> Orihime = Weaving Princess (Hinata)  
> Hikoboshi = Cowherd (Naruto)  
> Tentei = The Heavenly Sky King (Hiashi)  
> Amanogawa = The Milky Way (a river)


	2. Beautiful as

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the NaruHina :)

They met a few more times, taking walks around the gardens of the Pavilion of Swans, or enjoying tea together inside.

Hinata found herself unable to stop thinking about him.  He was friendly, interesting, and handsome.  His smile was warm and open, as if he had nothing to hide from her.  The way he looked at her made her feel special, beautiful, even.  He was patient with her, willing to listen to any trivial happening in her life.  And when he spoke, he told lively stories, descriptive in a way that she almost felt like she was there with him, opening her imagination to adventures not possible within the safety of Raira.  

She enjoyed listening to him talk about anything, or nothing at all, she just liked the sound of his voice.  And it was with these memories of him that she worked even later hours, intent on committing his presence and tones to something tangible, to something she could see, feel, and keep close.

At their fourth meeting, she wore the new kimono, the reds, oranges, and purples striking against her pale features.  She worried that perhaps the embroidery was too bright on her, for someone so quiet and shy, but Naruto’s words wiped away her misgivings.

They rested together on a bench in the garden.  It was peaceful, just the two of them. His gaze met hers.  “You’re more beautiful than the moonrise,” he said softly.  He always had a compliment to give her at each meeting, and the honesty in his tone told her he was sincere.

Still, she shook her head, embarrassed.  She blushed, fingering the threads that she had sewn together, each one careful and purposeful in design.  “...On the day I first met you, Naruto-kun,...when you and my father were speaking to each other, I heard your voice where I was waiting, and I envisioned this kimono.”  She met his earnest gaze and smiled.

His eyes dropped to the detail of her embroidery, the sparkle of threads fanning across the garment.  “My voice?” he repeated.

“I love listening to you.  Thinking about you, remembering the stories you tell me, it makes me so happy.  I wanted to remember how I felt when I first heard you speak.”

The air was still between them, their very breaths frozen in their chests.

“Hinata…”  His hand took hers, his grasp gentle and warm.  He drew closer to her, his azure gaze intense, arresting.  He whispered her name again, so close that she could feel his breath.

Her heart fluttered painfully, and she was barely aware that she murmured his name in return.  Her gaze flickered down to his lips.  They were so close.  If she leaned forward at all...

“Let’s...let’s be married.”  

She nodded, unable to speak.  Kissing before marriage was taboo.  The draw they felt to each other couldn’t be ignored any longer.  

He pulled away, yet continued to hold her hand.  They walked around the garden again, but unlike their previous meetings, they were quiet.  Each time they looked at each other, a blush spread across their cheeks.  The memory of their almost-kiss, their promise for marriage, hung in the air between them.

 

Guests from various asterisms, from Kapuri, Mikoro, and even other Mansions, many gods he had never met before, shared blessings upon them on their wedding.  

Meat, fruit, and sake were abundant, laughter and storytelling easy throughout the night.

Nearly every goddess, and some gods, too, himself included, were dressed in a kimono of Hinata’s design, the intricacies of her handiwork shimmering in the hall.

She could tell him the story behind each one, how she learned about her clients’ lives and passions through conversation, and then created a unique shade and pattern to suit their occasions and aesthetics.  Without fail, if a guest’s kimono caught his eye, she could explain her creative process, never forgetting a detail about the symbolism in the flowers or animals embroidered in the cloth.  She retold these stories fondly, expressing appreciation for her customers, for letting her be a part of their lives.

The more he learned about her, the more surprised he was.  She told him at their second meeting that she was shy, and that she appreciated him for taking the time to get to know her.  But after seeing for himself how many lives she had touched, he knew otherwise. “Hinata, if knowing more than half the guests, personally, by name, is being ‘shy,’ then I must be nothing more than a recluse,” he chuckled.

Her gorgeous eyes widened, her small shoulders stiffened in embarrassment.  “...If it were not for my work, I suppose I would not know so many of the lords and ladies.”  She ducked her chin a bit, her gaze turning up toward him demurely through thick lashes.  “I would be just as happy to spend all my eternity with only you.”

His heart caught in his throat.  This beautiful maiden was now his wife, his to keep and hold.  

She was a picture of elegance, of refined beauty he feared he would ruin if he touched.  She appeared splendid, in her fifth kimono-change of the night, this one of a dark color as deeply blue as her hair with two large white and golden cranes, overlapping as they flew across the expanse of material.  

He squeezed her hand below the table, away from the prying gazes of their wedding guests.  Suddenly, it seemed the celebrations couldn’t end fast enough.  He couldn’t wait for their time alone, for him to have the chance to get to know her more, and she him.  Their married life would begin soon, but certainly not soon enough.

He never imagined he’d have the time to find someone with all his time spent alone in the fields.  

He associated mostly with only those in Akira, who remembered him as the rough-and-tumble youth of many, many years ago, before he was taken under the guidance of the Tenkoshu, before his energies were redirected toward the perilous, sweeping heavens around him.  Since then, he had met many lords and ladies in his travels across the constellations, but they were relationships formed in passing.  No one was interested in him personally, no one had ever given him such devoted attention as Hinata.

It felt inevitable.  

There was no denying the care of a goddess as beautiful as Orihime, and his admiration for her only grew with each moment, his desire to be with her grew ever stronger, even as their carriage drove them in privacy to their new residence.  

Her softly glowing eyes that shimmered up at him shyly beckoned him closer.  The urge to caress her near-translucent skin had him grasping her hand tightly.  

Tonight would be solely for them, and he promised himself to show her how much he cherishes her.

 

She let him lead her to their bed.  Their voices were still, their breaths were light.  Her heart felt strung with anticipation as they whispered words of admiration in the quiet of the room.  

Throughout the wedding, he was a lively presence, who commanded attention with an easy, inviting smile.

But now he was just hers.

A small smile he only showed to her, the cerulean of his eyes glowing for her, warm breath and soft lips on hers, only hers.

And she wanted him to know, to feel it, too, that she was just for him.  Only him.

That when she held him and touched him, pulled open his kimono, traced her fingers down his golden skin, he’d feel her appreciation and adoration.  That when she bared herself for his heavy gaze, he’d know that he would forever be the only one to see her without her threads and cloths, without her title of Orihime.  

That when she was just Hinata, just Hinata in the rough strains of his voice and hitching breath, he was just Naruto, her lord and husband, beautiful and courageous, strong and vivid.

 

They spent their waking moments in each other’s peaceful company.  Her teasing smiles and giggles were more than enough to catch his full attention.  Each glance, each lingering look roused him, made him reach for her so that she might not shy away from him.  

She dressed, only for him to unwrap her, to reveal her to him once more.  He spoke, only to hear her voice, to settle into the soothing lilt of her tones.  

They drew each other out, shared of themselves ardently, and held the other close in tender union.  

He felt tied to her, woven into her very divinity, as much a part of her as he was himself.  Threaded and knotted together, their loving sighs, their laced hands, their locked gazes.

The way she hung onto his every word, the way she lightly touched him with pale, nimble fingers, the way she looked up at him with glowing, starlit eyes.  He found himself falling into her, a rich descent into heaven’s most beautiful and precious flower.

That she seemed just as taken with him as he was with her, that she seemed perfectly content to lie in his arms, or to just watch each other in peaceful, intimate quiet, was overwhelming, too good to be true.

He couldn’t leave her.

 

She was freed in his embrace.  She saw the expanse of the atmospheres in his bright eyes, she felt the currents of the open galaxies in his touch.  

He was everything she had never experienced before.  He was uninhibited excitement, daring bravery, limitless energy.  

None of these things had ever colored her sheltered life within her shop or within the palace.

Yet, at the same time, he was gentle.  Attentive.  Discerning.  Loving.  He filled a yearning in her heart she hadn’t been fully aware was even there.  

She whispered to him, in a moment of honest passion, “Don’t leave me.”

And he promised to stay with her, that he _couldn’t_ _imagine_ being without her.  

So she responded with words of faithfulness, touches of admiration, looks of devotion that she hoped conveyed her commitment to him.

When he seemed to hold her ever closer, when he shared his past, his secret worries, with her, and when he listened to her, explored her, discovered aspects she hadn’t known of herself, she felt she was more than just her titles, her cloths, and her fame.  

She was more with him.

She couldn’t go back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm amazed I held myself back on the smut ^^ but I'm not going for that kind of racy feeling here.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you know this folktale...you know what's coming next... x(  
> If you don't know this folktale, don't look it up! x)


	3. On this day every year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been three months since I updated this one!  
> Please enjoy the NaruHina :)

It was the workers of the Tenkyusha from the Mansion of Kabe Yado who noticed first.

The cattle wandered, lost, not returning to their proper houses.

 

Orders placed were forgotten.  Celebrations came and passed, lacking her auspicious blessings.

 

Tentei visited her workshop in concern, shocked to find the room cold, the sing of her loom silent, spools of gossamer collecting dust.  Worry clouded his mind, and he rushed to their residence.

Only to find the two, sitting in intimate conversation on the engawa.  Blissful smiles directed at each other, longing in their eyes, blushes dusting their cheeks, though they were many weeks past newlywed.

He addressed the lord of the household, demanding answers.  “Hikoboshi.”

The cowherd turned, his dreamlike expression faded, awareness shifting over his features.  His daughter’s own eyes widening, her brows raising in surprise.

 

They had no excuses.  Shirking their heavenly duties was a terrible offense, their responsibilities were necessary for the order of the celestial realm and the mortal world far below.

Hinata could not beg her father for mercy, she could not go against his directives.

 

They were separated.

 

A love too wonderful to be true, too splendid to last, ended swiftly.  

She cried the first time she sat herself over her loom, the cloths familiar to her, yet lacking in inspiration.  Her threads paled in comparison to the vibrancy of her lost husband. The clack of her machines a tune she could not understand when she longed for the hushed tones of his timbre.  

She longed to see him, she wished to go and meet him, to feel his embrace, to be in his comforting arms, to know what he was doing, how he was faring, whether he was safe.  

She laid in her bed, the loneliness of the late hours swallowing her up until she was just a being of habit.  She went through the motions of weaving, completing the tasks asked of her, returning to her dutiful ways.

 

Everything his gaze fell on, he saw her.  Her midnight hair glimmered in the night sky, her sparkling eyes twinkled in the constellations.  Her whisper that swirled through the pastures.  Everything he could see but couldn’t grasp with his own hands.  It filled him with regret.  A burning anguish that darkened his outlook, dimmed his dedication to the job that once gave him purpose and pride.

It was the same, every night.  The dangers were expected.  The stubborn cattle frustrated him, unlike before.  Boring and bothering, the nights passed slowly, and he desperately missed holding her close, finding comfort and release in her arms.

When his journeys took him beside the vast Amanogawa, he gazed across the tumbling waters, imagining her graceful figure beyond the rising mists of the river.  Those moments were the hardest.  To know he was so close, but so far from her, was the worst sort of punishment.

 

She was sick.  

She had never been sick like this before, hardly able to delight in the flavors of the court, hardly able to stand the company of her needier customers.  Her skin felt too tight, as if she was trapped in more than just the confines of her shop.  She was forgetful, finding mistakes on incorrectly written orders and misplaced silks and needles.

She thought it was a sickness of the heart, one she might have to live with until she disappeared from the heavenly realms of existence, like her mother.

But then she felt the weight in her stomach as she laid in rest.  And took a close, curious look at the changes of her body before the mirror. 

She expected to look weak, to look heartbroken with an unhealthy pallor, to find a dull sheen in her eyes. 

But instead she appeared healthy, skin glowing, hair lustrously shining, and belly, slightly protruding lower than should be expected.

Overcome with equal, overwhelming amounts of elation and anguish, she cried.

 

She came to him, three months since he punished them, with her request.  She revealed to him that she was pregnant with Hikoboshi’s child, that her husband should know and have the chance to be a father.

Clearly she had been crying, her eyes taking on that telltale shade of pink that inadvertently made her expression appear sullen, her beauty somewhat malevolent.  

He considered her request as rationally as he could, though he was hardly inclined to grant her pardon.  

He hadn’t seen her in all this time.  She refused to see him.  And he had been too angry to insist on her presence.  

Even now, the mess the couple had caused wreaked havoc on the mortal world.  Without Hikoboshi’s proper guidance, his cattle had signaled accidental wars, births and deaths of kings, and had led astray ships in their oceans.  

Without her auspicious weaving, gods and goddesses alike lacked motivation, drama unfurled in the courts, and all of it together contributed to a chaos never seen before during his orderly reign.  

Rightfully, he regretted bringing the two of them together.

More importantly, he didn’t know if he could trust them anymore.

He stared at his daughter, looking for deception.  “How far along is your pregnancy?”

“Near three or four months,” she responded, quietly, sadly.  

It was easy to be moved by his daughter, but his first consideration should always be the welfare of the realms.  “If you work hard and complete your responsibilities, I will allow you to see him on the seventh day of the seventh month.”  By then, her supposed child would be born.  By then, hopefully she would be more understanding of his decisions.

 

She earnestly threw herself back into her work, looking forward to her reunion with her husband.  She dreamed of his reaction to seeing her and their child, she dreamed of his smile and laughter.

Her child would be strong, she could tell as her body changed dramatically.  Teasing customers told her it would be a boy, that it had to be a boy if her draping kimono could not even hide her rapidly changing figure.

She wondered if her child would be a boy, one strong and courageous like his father.  The hopes she held for her child soothed the aches and sharp discomfort that came with her swelling belly.

But some days it felt like too much.  She was susceptible to bouts of depression, especially when she thought of raising him on her own, somehow attending to the needs of an excitable boy while completing her duties at her loom.  

If only he could grow up with his father.  If only he could know the excitement of the outside world across the Amanogawa, far from the stuffiness of the palace.  

And when she thought that, she formulated her plan, pushing her own, selfish wants on the side for the welfare of her unborn child.

 

She had twins.  

A boy and a girl, both heartbreakingly beautiful and strong.

Her father loved them.  He doted on them and came to see them often.

And when it was the seventh day of the seventh month, he granted her permission to see Hikoboshi on that day every year.

“Go.  You have worked hard, and your family deserves this day.  Hikoboshi will be waiting for you.”

She told her father then.  It was only fair that he know.  “I will leave my children with him.  They can live a happier childhood there than with me.”  She had considered separating her children, keeping the girl with her and the boy with Naruto, but her children didn’t deserve that.  She understood that they should grow up together.

She didn’t expect her father’s reaction, the darkening of his expression.  He turned away and bid her leave to go see her husband, while muttering that she would certainly miss them.  

 

She came to the Amanogawa, holding her two children in her arms.

The Amanogawa surged restlessly, and she could see no way across.  

Her gaze searched the far bank, and she saw him.  Hikoboshi stood there, a lone, small figure, waiting for her as her father had told her.  The sight of him filled her with greater happiness than she had ever known, more than on the day of her children’s birth, because now they could be together.  As a true family.

“Look across the river, my children.  Your father awaits us!” she murmured excitedly.

They smiled at her lighthearted tone, squirming in her arms to turn and see the object of their mother’s great happiness.

She waited for the power of the Heavenly Sky King to stall the rapids of the Amanogawa.

But when nothing happened, when several long minutes passed, she realized then that her father, the only one who had the ability to split the river, had no intention of letting her across.  

He promised her.  

He had promised her, and yet. 

He was keeping her here trapped, so close, so excruciatingly close to her one joy, never to reach it, punishing her for even thinking of taking away his grandchildren.

Tears, hot and painful, slipped down her cheeks before she was even aware she wanted to cry.  

The betrayal of her father, that he would twist his words so ruthlessly, shocked her.

She found she couldn’t breathe.  

She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched her children close, trying to calm herself, trying to figure something out. 

She had worked hard.  

Through the pain of pregnancy and the fatigue of new motherhood, she had continued working, believing that it would all be worth it in the end.  

She had attentively tended to the needs of her babies, hoping that they would grow to be healthy and strong enough to be without her.

And now here she was with them, all of them ready and hopeful, only for her dreams to be crushed.

She felt the anger of her father, his truly unforgiving nature clear to her now, and she mourned.  Mourned for her broken family, her lost relationship with her father, her hard work all for nought, and the certainly awful future that awaited her and her children in Raira.  

Each piece of agony brought new tears to her eyes and muted cries from her throat.  

Her children’s questions of “What’s wrong?” couldn’t be answered.  Everything was wrong.  

She couldn’t calm herself, and she fell to her knees, defeated.  Her sobs shook her entire form, and she wasn’t sure which was louder--the breaking of her heart or the thundering river separating her family.

“Okaa-sama,” her son softly whispered in her ear.  “Birds!”

“Lots and lots of birds!” her daughter said.

She didn’t look up right away, but their insistence made her turn her blurred vision to the rushing river.  

It eventually became clear that what sounded to her like the river was rising, was actually the sound of numerous magpies.  They amassed over the river, a cloud of white and grey, their flock almost disturbing in its powerful show of numbers.  The azure-winged birds coalesced into one form, moving together and stretching above the river. 

She cleared away her tears as best she could when one magpie swooped down to her.  “Orihime of Raira, we have heard your cries.  Please, allow us to assist you in your passage over the Amanogawa.”  

For a moment, she was at a loss for words, then was moved again to tears by their kindness.  “Thank you,” she breathed out, voice shaking with emotion.  “Thank you so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you're wondering why I'm not updating Catskin, I am! it's just a case of writer's block that's slowly being worked through, sentence by sentence. and in the meantime, the other stories I abandoned, like this one, are easier to tackle.
> 
> btw Tanabata, the Star Festival, is this July 7!
> 
> Added note: I just realized that this story may not be the most accessible or easy to understand Dx  
> If you stuck around, you probably figured the following out already:
> 
> Orihime = Weaving Princess (Hinata)  
> Hikoboshi = Cowherd (Naruto)  
> Tentei = The Heavenly Sky King (Hiashi)  
> Amanogawa = The Milky Way (a river)


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